Hello dear one,

A couple of weeks ago, we gathered for our first community circle, and the theme that wanted to come through was reciprocity. I give, you receive. You give, I receive.

We started with an example that most of us recognize: with the pay-it-forward coffee. Maybe you remember that trend of buying a Starbucks for the stranger behind you in line? It's a lovely impulse. I know it made me feel like there was more kindess in the world! But I realized that person being gifted a coffee may not need a coffee. They have a budget for it. They're already in Starbucks. So I found myself wondering out loud, what would it look like to give someone what they actually need, instead of what we assume they need?

Then a smaller, truer story came to me.

We'd run out of water in our apartment. We use the big five-gallon jugs right now, and they are stupidly heavy, around twenty-five pounds. I can't lift one right now, so I asked my oldest son if he could help go to the grocery store and get a replacement with me. He said yes. And then he came back and said, "Actually, it's late, and tomorrow is my first day of school." Of course! I had remembered that on the way over. So there was room for his no, and his no only meant that he can't do it right now.

I asked my youngest, Josh, and he happily hopped in the car.

As our grocery store run continued, I realized that it was never really about the water. Josh was glad to come. I got to watch him walk around the store and choose his own things, this 22-year-old adult I've somehow never seen grocery shopping for himself with his own money before. The water got carried, yes. But I was also receiving his gladness, and the chance to simply be with him, and the quiet delight of seeing who he's becoming. And I believe that he received a lot from me delighting in him. The receiving happened on so many levels.

That's the thing about reciprocity. It isn't a transaction, I do this, so you owe me that. It's a current we keep alive between us. I notice what's needed. I ask. You have a real choice, a yes or a no. And when the yes comes, I let myself actually receive it.

But notice what has to be true for any of that to happen. There has to be room for the no. My son could say, "No, I can't tonight," and still be met with love. And his honest no was its own kind of gift, because it meant that when a yes did come, from him or from Josh, I could trust it was real. Think of the opposite for a moment. What is it like when someone says yes but really means no? We can usually feel it, and it doesn't feel that great, does it?! A no we can trust is what makes a yes worth receiving. Room to say no might sound like a small thing, but it is everything. Because reciprocity only flows where it feels safe. Safe to ask. Safe to say no. Safe to receive without bracing for what it will cost you later.

And that brings me to what we’re exploring this week.

This Saturday, our circle's theme is safety. What does it actually mean to feel safe in your own body? In your home? In the people closest to you? In a circle of people you don’t know well (yet)? And what gets in the way of a home that feels safe for everyone in it, the youngest and the oldest alike? These aren't questions with tidy answers. They're the kind worth sitting in together, slowly, with company.

So here's one to carry with you this week: where in your life does it feel safe to say no? And where does the no feel too costly to risk? Just notice. That noticing is where it starts.

If you'd like to join us, the next online circle is Saturday, October 3rd, at 1pm Eastern, the first Saturday of each month. The circles are offered by donation. If it helps to have a number, $25 is a suggested gift. Please give what feels right for you, even if that is simply showing up. You're welcome whether you come to share or simply to sit and listen. The theme is simply where we begin. Whatever is alive in you that day is just as welcome here.

I hope to see you there!

Warmly,

Rebecca